


It Seems the Wind Calls Me Back to Randvi

by OlwenWhiteTrack



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Assassin's Creed: Valhalla - Fandom
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Mutual Pining, Unresolved Romantic Tension, the yearning is strong with this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28442511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlwenWhiteTrack/pseuds/OlwenWhiteTrack
Summary: "Well what are you doing about at this time of night?” Her tone was defensive and her chin was raised. “My work is never done, Eivor, if I cannot sleep then I will work. Tonight I am your courier. This morning we will wait and see what Ravensthorpe needs from me and I'll be that.”“I think we understand each other very well actually.” Eivor said with humor in their voice, unable to keep the fondness from their gaze when looking at their brother's wife."Randvi can't sleep and gets caught being nosy in Eivor's room.
Relationships: Eivor/Randvi (Assassin's Creed)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 139





	It Seems the Wind Calls Me Back to Randvi

The night was much darker than most others and colder too. Ravensthorpe was struck silent as all its inhabitants stayed close to their hearths. To stray from the fire's glow was to brave the frost of this frigid winter night, risking fingers and toes. Only mad men and the cursed restless would think of leaving the warm sanctity of huddling beneath the furs.

In the longhouse nothing stirred, the candles and torches had dimmed and the fire grown low. A freezing wind made the meager flames dance as it howled in through one doorway and out another.

Randvi sat up in her bed with a small groan of frustration. She had reached the end of a string attempting to distract her unquiet mind in pursuit of sleep. A fruitless endeavor, like so many other sleepless nights when her mind buzzed like an insect. 

Resigned to wakefulness she wrapped herself up in the largest fur on her bed and padded out into the hall. The shock of cold from her bare feet on the frozen cold floor quickly banished any traces of sleep left in Randvi's body.

Birds flapped their wings high in the rafters and a sprinkling of feathers drifted down onto the feasting tables. The birds and Randvi were the only things stirring in the Great Hall tonight. 

She stopped beside her husband's throne. When was the last time she saw him in it or at all? She couldn't recall. In her mind Randvi heard Sigurd's ready laughter and had to admit it was her favorite thing about him, perhaps one of the only things she truly missed. It felt horrible to say, even to her most inward self. The man is a captive and the gods only know what he has been made to endure.

It was true that more than anything she wanted Sigurd home again, safe and whole. But the entire truth was that the clan managed to thrive with this empty chair the way it was, even when Sigurd was a free man.

Before she knew it Randvi had wandered into Eivor's room. Her eyes adjusted to the dark as the shadows around her grew long and deep. It made her feel more at ease to be hidden by them in this forbidden space. Randvi would always seek Eivor out, even without realizing.

It was inevitable that Eivor would come to her mind. It's always this way for Randvi. It always came back to Eivor. In the quiet moments of the day it's Eivor and even in the middle of the night when she can't sleep, it's Eivor the Wolf-kissed. She looked at the chair again and thought this time that she hadn't heard Eivor laugh in quite a while; not a true laugh, perhaps not since they were young. A perverse thought to have while her husband, Eivor's very brother, toiled in the clutches of the cultists. And the kiss, how could she ever forgive herself for the kiss? Randvi is hardest on herself when she is alone in the dark in the middle of the night but she could never bring herself to regret that kiss.

Her nose twitched as the sweet acrid stench of rot filled the air of Eivor's room. Not at all the romantic musk of sweat and leather she had come to expect. The culprit, she learned quickly, was a mostly rotted turnip lantern on the chest at the foot of the bed. The sorry thing frowned at her with droopy carved eyes and a deep frown. Melted wax from the candle within glued the ugly thing to the chest. Randvi smiled as she recalled that Eivor was childishly pleased to return with it from Sciropshire.

A small glint off the gilded rim of a book on the chest caught Randvi's eye next and she couldn't help but be drawn in by it. She opened the cover and let it slam closed when she realized it was too dark to make out the pages of scribbles and illustrations. Brought back from an exploit in Lunden, Eivor said it was valuable but wouldn't elaborate more other than to say that it came at a great cost. Examining it was on Randvi's very long list of important things to do. To be reminded of these tasks brought a huff from Randvi that shook her hold of the hide blanket she had wrapped herself in. It hung lazily off one shoulder and invited a chill near impossible to shake.

She stared for a long still moment at Eivor's bed and could not fathom the size of the thing. Though it was as large as hers she had never seen a bed look so vast and empty. She could swim in a bed like that, get lost in a bed like that.

Curiosity moved her to the bedside and boldness made her reach out and sink her hands into the furs and bedding that Ravensthorpe's prized drengr used to keep warm at night. She took the pillow into her arms and dared to press her cheek to it. Randvi even discovered a trace of the piney musk she had sought upon first entering Eivor's chambers. It felt good to give in just a little. Randvi deserved at least a little and so she indulged in the scent of Eivor's pillow.

Suddenly a terrible shriek tore through the night followed by the baying of hounds. Startled, Randvi tossed the pillow like a burning coal and ejected herself from the bed. Only to realize that it was Tove's pig riling up the dogs, the way it would sometimes. Characteristically, Tove's angry cry settled the beasts after a short stint of ruckus.

When Randvi breathed again she pulled the fur close up around her shoulders and sighed so heavily that it turned to mist in the air before her. She was beginning to feel silly for coming to this room. Randvi could not say why she came or what she was looking for but some days it was the only way she could feel close to anyone, to be among their belongings.

She loved Ravensthorpe and all the people here but part of her was always separate. The daughter of a jarl made into a peace offering, an outsider married into the Raven Clan. So much in these people's lives depended on her behavior, her decisions and actions, that it was hard to feel like one of them herself, a symptom of leadership and nobility.

There leaned on Eivor's desk one of the largest weapons Randvi had ever seen. Hemming Jarl's axe, a gift from Vili that came with a letter. When Randvi took it from the drengr's hand she sensed somehow that it was more private than most other letters she accepted on Eivor's behalf. There it sat and waited, like everyone and everything else, for Eivor's return. She ran her finger over the handle and wondered how many lives this axe had claimed already and how many more it would be fed in Eivor's deft hands.

“Randvi?” a hushed voice boomed into the room like a crack of thunder, it so frightened poor Randvi.

“Eivor!” she sputtered as the mighty war axe clattered to the ground. “You're back!”

“I've just returned from Aelfgarstun. It's the middle of the night, what are you doing in here?” The confusion was written plainly on Eivor's face.

“I...came to drop a letter in your message box.” Randvi lied expertly. A perk of a quick and unquiet mind.

“At this hour?” Eivor plied Randvi, ever the skeptic.

“Well what are you doing about at this time of night?” Her tone was defensive and her chin was raised. “My work is never done, Eivor, if I cannot sleep then I will work. Tonight I am your courier. This morning we will wait and see what Ravensthorpe needs from me and I'll be that.”

“I think we understand each other very well actually.” Eivor said with humor in their voice, unable to keep the fondness from their gaze when looking at their brother's wife.

“It's good to see you. I'm always relieved when I see you again.” Randvi said with a smile as she picked the fallen axe up off the floor and placed it in Eivor's waiting grasp. For a moment their hands lingered and their fingers brushed. Eivor's skin was rough and calloused while Randvi's was not, both were chilled at the tips.

“When the wind itself calls me back to Randvi I must answer.” Eivor's voice was soft and low, too soft and low. Randvi was never so grateful for darkness and shadows than for these that hid the color on her blushing pink cheeks.

"Then you are blessed with Odin's own wisdom." She rewarded them with a cheeky smirk that shined even in the dark of night.

"But he doesn't have my good fortune. How green with jealousy the alfather must be when Hugin tells him that you are the one I return to." Eivor took the inch she gave and stretched it into a mile. 

"Don't let him hear you say that, Wolf-Kissed, your luck may suddenly run dry." she said with a lilt.

Eivor's hand twitched at their side as they looked at Randvi, the most untouchable woman, and felt wholly unlucky in that moment.

Pleasantries like these kept Randvi's heart light. Surely a moment so small and insignificant wasn't damning, a comment here and there, a shared smile over the alliance table now and again. They weren't crossing any lines, Sigurd's honor remained intact but they would have to be careful from here. 

Eivor stepped forward into Randvi's space, so close that she could feel their breath on her face, a blast of warmth on her frigid nose. The drengr reached out and pulled Randvi's fur blanket close around her. It had fallen slack once again. 

“Do not fuss over me so, Eivor.” her rejection was weak.

“I will keep you warm any way that I can.” a voice full of confidence. The very tip of Eivor's thumb chanced a small caress along her jaw. An accidental brush surely. 

Randi's bold hand fell over Eivor's locking it in place. Instantly the other flew up to her waist and pulled her closer. They were so very close. A red flag waved in her mind. They were crossing the line. That cursed and damnable line.

"Did you find the Gemad Wolf?" Randvi asked so loud it bounced back at them from the walls. A long pause followed while Eivor read her eyes and understood. Their grip on her loosened and then drifted off. Many people would never learn what a shrewd and subtle person Eivor could be, but Randvi had always known. A sweet sadness passed through them as Randvi backed away.

"Yes. I did." Eivor's voice was tortuously low.

"You must tell me everything in the morning. I want every detail." she stopped in the doorway. 

"You will have them, given with pleasure. Goodnight, Randvi." 

"Goodnight, Wolf-Kissed." 

That night Randvi lay awake in bed for some time. Among many things she pondered for the first time how silly it felt to be jealous of certain wolves.


End file.
